


Mud

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), And sometimes things still really suck, Angst, Bittersweet, Developing Relationship, Gen, Implied Relationships, Melancholy, Mourning, Moving On, POV First Person, Past minor character death, Platonic Relationships, recovery is not linear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: the mud is going to soak through into the seat of my pants no matter what i do, but even so, when i reach their gravestones, side by side like they are, i shrug off my jacket and lay it down on the ground before dropping to sit, spreading my legs out, kicking off my wet slippers, wiggling my toes in the air before pressing my bare feet against the cold stones. i don’t got flat feet-- that’s like, a serious medical condition, i’ve heard-- but when i press my feet down against the ground, all bare like this, they go flat anyways. i can feel every inch of stone right up against the arch of my foot.maybe that’s too descriptive. it makes me feel closer to them, at any rate. if i could, i’d dig my hands right into the spot in the ground where i’m sitting, pushin’ aside handful after handful of mud and clay, until i reached them, and then i would burrow myself in between their graves and just go to fuckin’ sleep.i haven’t thought like this in a bit. maybe i really shouldn’t’ve come alone.---it's been eleven years since they died, and kaito hasn't moved on.(or, in which i pick an arbitrary day of the year and use it to make my kin suffer.)
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Harukawa Maki & Momota Kaito
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	Mud

after all this time, you’d think their graves would’ve gathered a little bit of dust, but in this weather, the only thing that covers the stones as i make my way over is rain, clear and cold, dripping down the dark grey lettering and making the ground damp.

my slippers sink slightly into the grass with every footstep, and mud splashes up onto my ankles when i don’t walk carefully enough. the graves are off the path, a bit, which isn’t a problem on days drier than this, but right now rain is coming down in sheets. the bouquet of white chrysanthemums i bought this morning is dripping, already, just as water is falling from my hair and rolling down my back. i shiver a little in the cold, wrinkling my nose, pressing my lips together, but it doesn’t matter. even if lightning starts flashing, i’m not going home. not today.

it’s been eleven years today since they died. the first time i’m spending this day alone since then, too. not because i particularly like to spend today with people (or, well, it’s not like i don’t like it, it’s more… there are some things that people just don’t get, not if you don’t explain ‘em, and i’m not the explaining type, not for this) but more because people don’t like to leave me alone, so much. even if i said shit like,  _ hey bud, lay off, i wanna go to the cemetery,  _ some of ‘em probably would’ve still insisted on coming with me.

i appreciate it. people only offer that stuff because they care about me. i guess that’s a part of the problem. not that it matters anymore; haven’t talked to any of those guys since i graduated high school a year ago.

the mud is going to soak through into the seat of my pants no matter what i do, but even so, when i reach their gravestones, side by side like they are, i shrug off my jacket and lay it down on the ground before dropping to sit, spreading my legs out, kicking off my wet slippers, wiggling my toes in the air before pressing my bare feet against the cold stones. i don’t got flat feet-- that’s like, a serious medical condition, i’ve heard-- but when i press my feet down against the ground, all bare like this, they go flat anyways. i can feel every inch of stone right up against the arch of my foot.

maybe that’s too descriptive. it makes me feel closer to them, at any rate. if i could, i’d dig my hands right into the spot in the ground where i’m sitting, pushin’ aside handful after handful of mud and clay, until i reached them, and then i would burrow myself in between their graves and just go to fuckin’ sleep.

i haven’t thought like this in a bit. maybe i really shouldn’t’ve come alone. the thing is, my roommate offered to drive me-- kaede’s nice like that, understanding, she even would’ve waited in the car if i’d asked her to-- but i didn’t… i dunno. it’s the kind of vulnerability you can share with the stranger nextdoor who has nothing left but the stones in front of her more than you can your closest friends. i’d trust kaede with my life. she’d probably take a bullet for me. but would i want her to see me cry?

mmm.

i run my fingers through my hair. be all crusty right now, usually, except that i haven’t used gel in almost a year now. wonder if they can even recognise me like this; last time i came here, my hair was shorter, and spiked up like i was some kinda hero. that’s always how i acted with them, too, all happy and loud like i was gonna save someone. like i’ve ever been able to save anyone.

my hair is free of product, and tied back with a hair tie, but i pull it out after a while, untangling knots with my fingers, using the water as an aid. i dunno why i’m stalling. there’s shit i want to say to them, shit i say every year, but my voice doesn’t seem to work like i want it to.

i force it, though, after a moment. once i find the energy, i force it.

“hey mom,” my voice comes out a little rough. i rest my hair tie on my knee and fist my hands in the grass, tearing out muddy chunks, getting grains underneath my fingernails. “hey dad.”

they don’t respond. never do. ‘cause, ghosts aren’t real, and all. no matter what i was thinkin’ the night that they died, seeing them in the front seat of the car, still covered in those stupid fucking costumes.

“it’s… uh, it’s been a while. sorry. college has kept me busy.” real busy. between lectures, studying, and tests, and between having friends, people to be okay in front of, between collecting enough money for rent, between working and partying and everything else, i’ve been… busy. too busy. which is stupid. i should be able to make time for my parents. but it’s been ages, and i’m only here… now. “i don’t even know where to start, ‘s far as updating you.”

ugh. this is always such a useless practice. always thought so. not like they’re gonna hear me. i go ahead and put my soggy bouquet in between them, and then tuck my arms underneath my head, leaning back, lying down, closing my eyes and feeling the water drip down my face, soaking into my clothes.

“miss you two,” i say, to the sky, to whoever can hear me. “miss your food, mom. and your comfort, dad.” i miss the way that they used to dance and sing together, the way the house used to be full of laughter. shit, i love my grandparents, i would take a bullet for either of them in a heartbeat. but it’s… not the same, growing up with them, not like it was with my folks.

i open my eyes and let the water run into them, too, act like i’m not crying, like it’s all just the rain.

“i say this shit every year. it’s pretty useless, huh?”

what am i expectin’, anyway? some kinda catharsis? i get my catharsis with my fists, not from whining to a couple slabs of rock, a couple cold cold cold dead bodies buried six feet under. this isn’t gonna fix anything. this isn’t gonna make me feel better.

“i don’t know why i’m even here. not like this is you. just the reminder.”

not like there’s any  _ them  _ to talk to. once you die, that’s it. i don’t believe in heaven, or hell, or any kinda afterlife. that shit’s stupid. you live, and you die, and that’s it.

“i guess i just… don’t know where else to go. not today.”

which isn’t like i don’t got nowhere else to go. i got places. people. it’s my buddy iidabashi’s birthday, they’re having a party. i feel like shit that i’m not there celebrating with them, but it’s like… i dunno. i’m sure they’d understand, but to explain, i’d have to… no. i had kaede lie, say somethin’ came up last minute, and i felt like shit, asking her to lie for me, but… she offered. and… i don’t want them to know. don’t want anyone to know.

i’m not ashamed of my folks. that’d be stupid of me. i owe them everything i am. just disappointed i haven’t been able to move on yet. that’s all. people who are strong don’t… malinger, like this, don’t wallow, don’t sulk. they just, they take their pain, and they use it to make them stronger.

but i’m not stronger. i never got any stronger. i pretended like i did, for a while, in high school, like the pain i felt somehow contributed to making me a good person. but i was never that person i was actin’ like back then. just some guy with too much confidence, no indoor voice, shitty lungs, and dead fucking parents.

…

i doze here for a little while, trying to figure out what to say, where to go, what i’d even do if i went somewhere, covered in mud and rain water like i am, and eventually i hear footsteps, squelching through the mud near me, the faint murmur of voices. a woman’s contralto. a man’s bass. i don’t open my eyes, don’t even move, but eventually the rain stops falling on my face, a shadow blocking out the light that streams through my eyelids, and so i open my eyes, and i see…

two people, standing over me.

“hey,” the man’s voice is low, soft, and when i meet his eyes, they crinkle at the edges, a pale grass green, with his smile. “you okay, there?” he shifts his hand, and i realise he’s the guy holding the umbrella. the woman, whose long brown twintails swing near my face, is perched on the tips of her toes like a bird, graceful, waiting, her hands held behind her back.

“he’s probably just resting,” she says, flatly, her eyes leaving me to dart up to the man’s face. “i told you to leave it be.”

“you don’t gotta,” i mumble. my voice comes out. the woman’s eyes, which are a vibrant red, come back to my face, but they don’t meet mine. “‘m fine, you’re right, just resting, but,” i shrug. “‘s not like i have any say in who goes where here.”

“well, we came over to bug you,” the woman puffs out her cheeks, irritated. i feel myself smiling. “so you could always. have a say, if you wanted.” her hands shift back in front of her, fingers gripping at one of her twintails. “i’m just saying.”

“maki has a point,” her companion with the green eyes offers, tilting his head. “you’re welcome to tell me to fuck off. it’s just, we came here to visit some old friends, and you’ve been lying here about the whole time we’ve been around catching rain. wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything.”

i chuckle, something bitter, something fond. “you don’t even know me, man.”

“well, y’know,” he ducks his head, rubbing his ear with his free hand.

“there’s a word for people like you,” the woman, maki, sighs. “but we’re already here. and you shouldn’t get sick.” her eyes dart to my parents’ graves, then back to me. “are these…?”

“yeah,” i sigh, turning my eyes away from maki’s for a minute, just looking at her pal’s umbrella. i’m tired. all i wanna do is go back to a home that doesn’t exist anymore. “my parents. you’re visiting some friends, huh?”

“one friend, one sister,” the man specifies. his eyes tighten for just a moment, but then his expression relaxes.

i hum. wonder whose is whose. somehow i don’t get the sense these two are related. makes me smile a little, though, that they came over to ask if i’m okay, given that… y’know. they don’t know me at all. they seem around my age.

“appreciate the concern,” i say, quietly. i close my eyes for a moment, brow furrowing, and breathe another sigh. “just takin’ a minute to figure where to go from here, ‘s all. no problem.”

the man looks at maki, then back at me, and a good humoured smile crinkles his expression. “well, we all do plenty of that, i’m sure. alright. you have five seconds, then.”

i blink. “five seconds?”

“to either tell us to fuck off,” he grins, handing off his umbrella to maki (who takes it with a sigh) and then crouching down in front of me, holding out a calloused hand for me to take. he’s wearing a good amount of rings. “or come with us to a shop nearby for warm drinks. cider and cocoa. be on me.”

… that’s, a really nice thing to offer to a guy you just saw lying in a cemetery. i raise my eyebrows. “you’d do that?”

“four seconds,” the man corrects.   
  


i laugh a little. “hey, man, you’re really gonna…? i mean, we don’t even.”

“three.”

“might as well come,” maki huffs, puffing out her cheeks. “you’re going to catch cold if you haven’t already, staying out here more.”

it’s a fair point, and her friend is counting. after a split second, i reach up, and if my hand is muddy at all, the man doesn’t comment on it, just, pulling me right up to my feet.

his hand is rough, but his grip is tight, and comforting. his other hand rests on my upper arm for just a moment before pulling away, and his smile sends warmth straight to my core.

“amami rantaro, by the way,” he shakes my hand, and squeezes it. “you?”   
  


“oh,” i clear my throat. “momota kaito. uh, thanks, man.”

“it’s not really about you,” maki sighs, and she leans down, scooping my jacket off the ground, dusting grass off the back, then folding it over her arm. she gives me what passes for a wry curve of her lips. “rantaro is just looking for a reason to spend his money.”

“not true,” rantaro huffs. “it’s absolutely about kaito. i think kaito deserves good things.”

given name, huh? i smile slightly. “what about you?” i raise my eyebrow, looking in maki’s direction.

she averts her gaze, cheeks pinking. “harukawa maki,” she grumbles. “don’t make that stupid face. i’m just here by extension.”

“right,” i say, but i’m grinning, and it makes maki’s nose wrinkle, which is cute, so i grin wider. this is… i’m not happy, i’m not, never gonna be happy on a day like today, but it’s… mmm. it feels nice to be seen, i guess.

and when i go to the shop with maki and rantaro, and sip from the cocoa rantaro bought for me, i feel more of that gooey warmth, shooting right through me.

**Author's Note:**

> amaharumota definitely gets together after this fic maybe i'll write something for them for amamota week
> 
> :] happy kaito parent death day (and kiibo b-day i guess lol)


End file.
